And How We Loved To Burn
by TheVeiledsatyr
Summary: Taking the first step is the hardest part, burning is easy. Following the relationship of Sirius and Remus, the moment that changed them from friends to something more, and the rekindling post-Azkaban. A Wolfstar fic, warnings of M/M. Twoshot, complete.
1. Striking the Flame

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.

Warning: Homoerotic romance.

* * *

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth,

I felt the earth move in my hand,

Like the trembling heart of a captive bird,

That was there at my command, my love.

Sirius Black climbed the time-worn steps to the 6th year boy's dormitory two at a time, leaving behind him the Gryffindor common room in full swing of celebrations. The Quidditch team had decimated the Ravenclaw side 320-50, placing them in the finals match against Slytherin, and the after party had been raging for hours. James was indulging in the attention of his enraptured fans, and Peter was firmly at his side, enjoying his small share of James' limelight. Sirius, himself had partaken of the flattery of a fair few girls, and imbibed a decent quantity of firewhisky over the course of the night, but their other friend had slipped away some time ago. Remus was never one for crowds.

Sirius padded into the dormitory softly, finding the boy exactly where he knew he would be. Perched on the wide windowsill next to Sirius' bed, the only window in the cosy circular tower room, Remus was huddled with his knees pulled up to his belly, nose deep in a book. The quietest of the four Marauders, he was the one Sirius always sought out when there were pranks to be made, or celebrations to be had. James would be by his side no matter, and Peter was never far from James' side either, but Remus would often hang back, as if he wasn't sure it was his place. Wasn't sure he should laugh. Sirius considered it a personal goal to make Remus laugh. A challenge that only Sirius was competing in. He always smiled of course - polite smiles were handed out to everybody where Remus was concerned, like the chocolate he could always be relied upon to have - but the laughs, the great doubled-over, can't catch your breath, think you might die laughs, they were held in short supply, reserved for a select few, and only ever so often.

"Moony! I come bearing gifts! Namely myself." He said grandly, sweeping his arms up and bowing deeply to gain the attention of the other boy. Remus looked up slowly through his lashes, used to Sirius' over active behaviour.

"Have you come to bring the party to me?" Remus asked, eyebrow quirked with mirth, "I left for a reason you know."

Sirius sighed in mock exasperation, "It's havoc down there, turning down the ladies on all corners. I can see why you left."

"The ladies aren't after me, Pads, we both know they only have eyes for you and James," Remus grinned, appearing nonplussed at his state of bachelordom.

"Oh, I don't know about that Moony, little Peter looks to be getting quite cosy with a fifth year right about now," Sirius smirked, the thought of Peter with a girl was downright hilarious. He wasn't sure the boy would know where to put it even if he got the chance. Although, the mysterious disappearing act of James' Witches Gone Wild magazines, and Sirius' suspicions regarding the culprit, may indicate that Wormtail had educated himself in case the opportunity ever arose.

"Well, it sounds like I'm missing out on a terrific party," Remus smiled, turning his head back to his book.

"It's not much of a party without you, Moony," Sirius remarked frankly. Remus looked back up, his brows creasing together as he took in Sirius' words.

"Don't be ridiculous, Pads, no one needs the prefect around messing up the fun."

"Au contraire, Moony, breaking the rules with you around is so much more enjoyable."

"And how is that, Sirius?" Remus asked drily.

"Because, you my friend, are just oh so corruptible," Sirius rasped huskily, leaning over Remus' book and whispering next to his ear.

"And you, Padfoot, are incorrigible," Remus laughed, pushing the boy away and returning to his reading. Sirius beamed at the sound, his stomach doing little leaps and dances, and he thought, not for the first time that night, that he shouldn't have had that last firewhisky. It was doing strange things to his insides.

Shaking his head, he sat down on the sill next to Remus and scooted over to look at the open page on the boy's lap. "What are you reading?"

"It's an anthology of various potions, plants, and charms used in healing."

"Sounds thoroughly dull. Well done, Moony. You may just be the most boring person in the whole castle tonight." Sirius grinned, belying his taunt before it could cut.

"Well, I didn't ask you to join me Sirius. Go back to the party if you'd prefer, I don't mind."

"Nonsense," Sirius shouted, leaping to his feet and planting his hands on his hips, "I have pledged to spend the evening in your esteemed company. I demand that you dance with me."

"You're mad, do you know that?"

"'tis a virtue of my birth, dearest Moonikins. Do you mock my noble heritage, my upstanding pure blood, my batshit crazy lineage?" Sirius teased, his face quickly contorting into a look of anguish, and his hand clutching at his heart.

"Not at all, but there isn't any music, you fool," Remus rolled his eyes, but finally put his book down on the windowsill beside him.

"Well then, as I'm your fool, it's my job to entertain." Sirius replied, a small smile playing at his lips as he began humming quietly. He held out his hands towards the boy, "Come on Moony, there are some who would kill to dance with the Black heir," he grinned sardonically.

Remus only raised his eyebrow in reply, but he took Sirius' hands in his own and allowed himself to be pulled from the windowsill to stand awkwardly in front of the dark haired boy.

He was always so awkward – all elbows and politeness, tea, and books, and melancholy – that he was utterly, disarmingly charming. Coupled with a blatant ignorance to his quiet appeal, he was made captivating to almost everyone he met. Except the Slytherins of course, Sirius corrected himself, although he had known even some of them to succumb to Remus' special sort of allure, and the Marauders had been saved from more than one detention by Remus' popularity amongst the Professors.

Sirius pulled Remus close, laughing at his expression and chided, "Don't be a stranger, Moony."

"I'm not the one being strange, Pads"

"Oh, hush. It's just a bit of fun. I could always drag you downstairs though, if you prefer?"

"No, no let's dance," He muttered quickly. Sirius sent him a winning grin and pulled Remus away from the clutter surrounding his bed, into a clear space in the middle of the room.

Settling one hand at the base of Remus' back, he rested his head on Remus' collarbone, his humming vibrating through the other boy's skin, and Sirius could hear Remus' heart quicken in response. He began turning them slowly on the spot to the sound of his improvised music, feeling oddly comfortable in the other boy's arms.

"Well well, Moony. I could almost forget you're not a girl like this," He teased gently, moving his hand to stroke Remus' back to the hum of his tune.

"How romantic," Moony muttered, "Am I to be your conquest tonight then Padfoot? Gone through all the girls I suppose." He sounded somber, and Sirius paused in his ministrations to look up at his friend. Remus' cheeks were flushed and he was staring at the wall behind Sirius' head.

Sirius' breathing slowed as he ran his eyes over his friend. This close he could see each individual freckle as it patterned its way across his nose. He could see the crisscrossing of thin, white scars scattered on his face, his neck. He had known before now that Remus was an attractive boy, he was not ignorant of it by any means, but in that moment he saw him in his entirety. Merlin, but Moony was beautiful. His tawny hair set aflame with auburn and gold in the fading sunlight, and his deep honeyed eyes edged with soft, dark lashes were striking; stirring a longing need deep within Sirius, primal and wild like the wolf lurking beneath Remus' gentle visage.

Thoughts dared to bubble up, unbidden, dredged from that unspeakable place they had been banished to on more nights than Sirius cared to count. Because if he were honest, truly honest, he had thought about this before. Thought about all the ways in which he might find himself pressed up against Remus, finding out where those darker desires might lead him. But this wasn't a midnight fantasy that could be pushed to the far corners of his mind come morning, and it wasn't like kissing James or Peter for a laugh in the common room on some stupid dare. This was Moony. There would be no laughing it off, no backslaps and wicked grins, and the easy casualness of almost-brothers pranking each other. He had never thought about the others in the way he had thought about Remus.

Revising his previous regret on this evening's alcohol intake, Sirius decided he had never been more grateful for a drop of firewhisky in his veins, and a dash of Hag's courage to take the edge off. He felt the moment as it threatened to slip his fingers, fumbled, and threw himself into it before it was lost to him.

"If romance is what you want, Moony, I'll give it to you," He said quietly, clutching at Remus' hands and holding them.

He thumbed over Remus' knuckles lightly, and when the boy made to pull away, Sirius gripped tighter, staking his claim. His fingernails bit into the pale, lightly freckled skin of Remus' wrist, leaving red crescent shaped moons behind. As blood welled to the surface of Remus' soft skin; a harsh contrast to the surrounding patch of unmarred flesh, Sirius felt heat rise to consume him and he plunged willingly into its fiery embrace. Remus gasped as Sirius brought the marked wrist to his mouth and sucked gently on the tiny cuts, his molten silver eyes burning into the depths of Remus' amber set. The glint behind those eyes made Sirius' skin prickle, and in that moment Remus was wild and unpredictable, an untameable force wielding Sirius' hunger and lust in his hands.

Remus tilted his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Sirius felt the air around them change, inviting him closer as his desire crept up to engulf him entirely.

He leant forward and caught Remus' lips with his own.

For a heart stopping moment he thought he had been wrong - he hadn't been invited, Remus hadn't felt the spark ignite - but then the boy's lips moved against his slowly, and Sirius' heart beat with renewed vigour.

A soft moan escaped his lips as he deepened the kiss, and he felt Remus' hands slide up his chest to rest against his heart. A gentle push parted them. Sirius felt his cheeks burn and stepped back hurriedly, only to be halted by long, elegant fingers grasping his chin. Fingers that turned his face upwards to lock their eyes, joining them together with an invisible thread, and weaving the air between them into a froth.

Their magic crackled, spreading and hissing in the places their bare skin touched. Time seemed to pause, slipping past them and leaving them within a reality of their own, as Remus held him, searching his eyes for those unutterable questions.

Are you? Am I?

Breath tingled against his skin, warm and sweet, the scent of chocolate, and Remus, and need. And he came undone. A soft whine breathed out; Padfoot, submitting to the will of the Alpha. Remus' eyes widened slightly, before hardening with decision. He stepped forward, pulling Sirius to him, tilting his chin, and closing the space between their lips until all Sirius knew was warm, wet pressure and the feel of Remus around him, within him, soaking him up, making them whole.

Perfect. He was so perfect.

"Sirius." He growled, his voice growing deep, husky, filled with a want long denied, ignored, buried.

Sirius felt it echo within him. The same desire, an unuttered hope held for so long, so long, he couldn't pinpoint when it had begun. There were no words left now, he had no need of them anyway. They couldn't say what Sirius felt. Words could only dance around them. They were so much more. They were fire. They were magic itself.

He moved backwards, clasped tightly against his friend, his lover, until he felt the wood of his bed brush against his calves, the soft mattress welcoming him in, inviting them into its warm embrace.


	2. Stoking the Embers

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.

Warning: Homoerotic romance.

* * *

The first time ever I saw your face,

I thought the sun rose in your eyes,

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave,

To the dark and endless skies, my love.

Time had been harsh on them, thought Remus Lupin, as he gazed at the form of Sirius Black huddled on his threadbare couch. His long black hair was streaked through with silver and hung in unkempt ropes; obscuring his angled and refined face, and his hands and knees were drawn into his belly in the foetal position. His once proud and confident friend, dissolved into a mockery of himself.

Sirius Black had been an enigma. An enticing and unparalleled bundle of raw energy and wicked wit, bound within an exquisite casing. People were drawn to him, his boundless youth, his fire, his beauty. They had sought to peel back his layers, to see the man beneath the seductive veneer. To claim him. Consume him. The man who had given himself to a werewolf.

They had all been beautiful then. James; with his impassioned sense of justice, his unwavering loyalty and fierce love. Lily; her towering strength and her graceful loveliness, her pure and open heart. Peter; his playful innocence, his naive and trusting soul. And himself; so young, so amazed at being included, accepted, loved.

The world had opened for them, and they had flung themselves passionately into its grasp, wholeheartedly giving of their youth and lives. Believing, so foolishly, that they were the makers and moulders of their destinies.

The war had changed that. It had chewed them up, spit them out. Torn them and ripped them asunder. They had bled, screamed, cried, died. And the soul of Sirius Black had been slowly devoured, blackened like his name, finally consumed by those faceless and fear filled masses who had once admired him, and who had come to despise his very being. They had thrown him into hell itself and left him to rot alive.

Yes, he thought bitterly, time had been harsh on them all.

Thirteen years. Wasted. Wasted on falsehoods and pain; such torturous and self pitying pain. All because he had been too scared to ask. Too cowardly to make that heart wrenching trip to Azkaban and face the man he loved, to hear from his own lips the truth of that agonising night. It shamed him. The knowledge that if he heard the unutterable words spoken, he would truly have never known the person closest to him. And so he had not visited. He had not dared. And his Gryffindor heart had torn itself to pieces and bled internally throughout those long suffered years.

"Why, Sirius?" He whispered, "Why did you take revenge upon yourself? You followed Peter that night, you incriminated yourself by circumstance." He shook his head, half hoping to deny the past. Sirius slept on, undisturbed by his quiet questioning. He hadn't expected an answer, besides, he wasn't sure he needed one.

"You always were rash. Impulsive and passionate, and Merlin, I loved you so much. Ironic, isn't it? If it weren't for that, I'd never have known I loved you at all," he laughed bitterly, the sharp bark catching in his throat and bringing stinging tears to his eyes. He blinked them away harshly, "Oh, how the universe must hate us Padfoot, fate has truly made us her fools."

"Fools, Moony? We were always fools. Nothing's changed there," Sirius muttered, turning his head towards Lupin's tired form. Lupin felt his burning gaze as it washed over him, that molten heat he had felt so often in his youth. Time had had its way with Sirius Black's ravaged body, but it couldn't touch those eyes.

"I thought you were asleep, I didn't mean to wake you," Remus said quietly, dropping his eyes to the floor to avoid the piercing look of his oldest and closest friend.

"It's fine Moony, I don't sleep much these days. The nightmares." He shrugged, as if he could throw the nightmares off his shoulders with the merest motion, as if they didn't cause him to scream and wake in terror every night. Lupin knew otherwise, most nights brought similar ghosts to his bed too.

"Sit with me?" Sirius gestured towards the couch, his voice small and pleading, breaking Remus' already shattered heart into even smaller shards. They pierced his lungs as he took the offered spot next to Sirius and breathed in his scent, it was somehow made harder that this innate part of Sirius remained exactly the same. Just as familiar now as it was the very first time, even as Sirius himself was so very different. And yet, and yet.

"Do you think about it much?" Sirius asked, "Us? Them?"

Remus startled, they had been skirting around the past since Sirius had turned up on his doorstep, ragged, and dirty, and in the form of Padfoot. Three days of tea, polite gestures, and awkward exchanges.

"Every day," Remus replied softly, "There's not an hour that passes that I'm not reminded of something James would say, or how Lily would laugh, or how you," he swallowed thickly, "How you..."

"I can't remember much now," Sirius whispered, "Not the little things. They were the first to go. But the big things, sometimes I get flashes still."

Remus looked up to see Sirius studying his face intently, a frown settled on his brow, and his dark hair pushed back from his face. His beauty was still there, under the lines of the marching years, and the wasting of malnourishment. Remus could see the bones of the man he had once been, the man he held all the promise of becoming again.

"The big things, Pads?"

"I remember James and Lily's wedding, it was autumn and the leaves had turned golden and red. James joked that she'd been moulting again. I remember thinking that I'd like to get married," He smiled softly, his eyes flickering to the worn and shabby carpet of Remus' dingy little lounge, "I remember Harry's birth, James apparated over to our place to tell us, do you remember he couldn't stop grinning?"

"He said it was the happiest day of his life," Remus replied, "And then he asked you to be Harry's godfather."

"Yes, and he told you that you could be his godmother," Sirius laughed, the throaty jingle sounding loud and unnatural in the quiet of the room, "I remember that," he nodded, his voice becoming misty.

"What else do you remember, Pads?" Remus asked quietly, his heart tightening and beating an echoing tattoo against his scarred and broken chest.

"I remember us," Sirius murmured, looking up and catching his eyes. Remus fancied he could see stars in those eyes, the far flung image of distant searing suns heating his retinas and scorching the moment into Remus' mind.

"I remember that last night. It was so cold and you'd thrown your leg over me to get warm. The full moon was the night before and you were still battered and exhausted. Dumbledore's patronus came with the news, but you didn't wake, so I left you there to sleep." He didn't say what they both knew, that he hadn't woken Remus because he feared that he was sleeping next to the traitor.

Remus' chest ached as his breath came shallow and rattling into his lungs, he remembered waking up alone, his lover gone and his best friends dead. He had woken up alone every morning since.

"Anything else?" He breathed, "Anything from before the war?" He felt like a weight was pressing against him, waiting for Sirius to answer. Warily watching his face for any hint of rejection. They had both been through so much. Changed so much.

"Just you, Remus. Just you." Came the whispered response.

The space between them closed, though they remained still in their seats. It was the years that merged together, becoming an almost tangible substance. Palpable and intense. And just like that he knew, time may have marred them, sucked them dry, and stolen their innocence, but their hearts had remained constant. Azkaban couldn't take all of Sirius. It couldn't take the parts he had freely given away.

Remus stood slowly, deliberately, and reached for Sirius' upturned palms. His scarred and slender hands held tight to those of his worn and time battered lover, the wasted flesh and prominent bones a stark contrast to his memory of youthful and soft skin; hot to the touch and burning Lupin's own with his tender caress. Lupin bent down, his back sending him a painful twinge in complaint, and he placed a gentle kiss to his lover's dark brow. Sirius' thumb brushed gently over the white crescent scars on his wrist, a small smile playing at his lips as they both indulged in the memory of the little moons. He brought Lupin's hand to his mouth and kissed the old marks in an echo of the gesture made so, so long ago.

Lupin sighed. Even now, a lifetime later, Sirius was irresistible. He felt his heart pull with the inevitable and magnetic desire he had long thought consigned to the past. He could never deny him. He had never even wanted to.

"Come on," He whispered tenderly, "Let's go up to bed."


End file.
